


Giving Me Such a Rush

by QuirkyNeon (iforgetlikeanelephant)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: 5 + 1, Longing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgetlikeanelephant/pseuds/QuirkyNeon
Summary: Five times Brad wants to kiss Ray and the one time he does.





	Giving Me Such a Rush

**Author's Note:**

> This GenKill Week thing is the light of my life, y'all, I'm so hype about it!   
> (even if I have been stressed about storylines)

**Family Day**

 

He doesn’t exactly want to be here, spit shined head to toe and stiff in his dress blues while he shuttles weeping mothers to their seats, but Brad was volun-told by his CO, and as much as he would like to argue he likes being a Marine more, so he shares annoyed looks with one of the other men across the aisle during Family Day and tries not to cry from boredom. Or just cry in general, really, because that’s what finding out the woman you thought you were going to marry had been off fucking your best friend while you’ve been  _ protecting the country  _ can do to you. 

 

But he digresses.

 

He’s relieved by someone that looks just as bored as he is two hours into the whole thing, and the speed of which he escapes to the bathroom would probably be a record if anyone was keeping track. Brad’s feet are killing him and leans against the wall just outside of the bathroom as he undoes his shoes, sighing with relief when he manages to get them off and into his hands as he wonders why on earth dress shoes can’t be more comfortable. “Hey, man, you got a second?” A voice says from his left and he turns his head to see a Marine, one that looks deadly serious as he stands in front of him. 

 

“You lost?” Brad asks, straightening up and dropping his shoes to the ground by his feet as he does. The guy looks like he’s playing dress up if he’s honest, he looks small in his dress blues and Brad towers over him as he sucks in a breath, squaring his shoulders

 

“No,” He says, and he looks around the hall which is empty, his face serious. 

 

“Well, good,” Brad says, grabbing his shoes up from the ground and heading into the bathroom because he really does have to piss, tossing over his shoulder, “Because you’re being weird.”

 

He sets his shoes on a sink and pisses quick, not bothering to look up as the bathroom door opens and closes behind him. He figures it’s a father escaping for a breather, or a recruit sneaking away to talk themselves up, so when he tucks himself back into his pants and turns toward the sink he’s surprised to see the guy from the hall standing by the sink he left his shoes on. “I’m being weird because I’m about to join an institution that despises everything I am and I really just, I need to be  _ gay _ for one minute before I pledge my life away and guess what buddy, you don’t know who the hell I am so you get to deal with me saying that I’m a big ol’ queer and you are the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen,” The guy is definitely rambling, and he’s right, Brad doesn’t know who the hell this guy is, but he appreciates his courage. 

 

“And how do you know I won’t turn you in?” Brad asks, because he could, he  _ should _ , that’s the whole point of DADT, you ask or tell and you get the shit end of the stick. 

 

“Because you would have hightailed it the hell out of here the moment I said I needed to be gay,” The guy says, and Brad isn’t gay, he’s bi, but he knows how hard it is to hide that half of him while enlisted so he can only imagine what hell it must be like to hide a whole part of yourself. He licks his lips and then does a weak two fingered salute before he turns on his heel and walks out of the bathroom, leaving Brad standing by the sink and wishing that he had the balls to grab him and pull him into a kiss, because a confession like that deserves  _ some  _ type of reward. He doesn’t, instead he watches the man leave and then glances back at his shoes, dreading the thought of having to put them back on. 

 

**The Beach**

 

Brad is coming in from surfing, his board under his arm as he trudges through the sand and up to the towel he has laying out when he sees a group of guys walking his way. He recognizes two of them from the base, and the third he’s not sure  _ where _ he recognizes him from, just that he does. He lays his board out on the sand next to his towel and tugs his wetsuit down to his waist just before he drops down onto his towel, digging his sunglasses out of the small duffle he brought with him and dropping them onto his face. 

 

“I’m saying, dude, you have to admit that as obnoxious as the guy is he’s not bad on the eyes,” The one that he can’t be sure where he recognizes from says to his friends as they walk by, and Brad lets his gaze, eyes covered by sunglasses, drop to his ass as they pass.

 

One of the two the Brad recognizes from the base sounds tense as he says lowly enough that Brad struggles to hear, “You can’t just _say shit_ _like that,_ if any of us get found out we’re dead dude, _dead_.”

 

“They don’t  _ kill _ you, Blake, they just kick you out,” The first guy says, and Brad can  _ hear _ his eyes roll from where he’s relaxing in the sun, “Besides, it’s only us and that dude over there, and anyone that’s that built is probably at least a little gay, and his surfboard is  _ pink _ .”

 

Brad would argue, however he doesn’t feel like drawing any more attention to himself as he wants a relaxing day so instead he snorts quietly to himself keeps silent. “You’re going to get all of us  _ beat the fuck up _ by that dude,” The guy that tried to be quiet moments before says, and this time it’s loud enough that Brad doesn’t struggle to hear it. 

 

“Don’t worry so much,” the one that Brad doesn’t even kind of recognize says, “Just be gay on the beach for one afternoon without fucking worrying about being spotted, Jesus Christ.”

 

Brad’s eyes are still following the guy that he recognizes from  _ somewhere’s _ ass, and if he didn’t know the other two from the base he might make a move on him. He does, so he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from wandering up and down the shorter man’s exposed skin, his shirt tossed over his shoulder as he starts walking backward to talk to his group. “Be gay, gay, gay, homes, don’t let the Corps drag all the fun out of you,” He says, and Brad would swear that he’s looking at him as he says it, but that’s crazy because Brad’s sunglasses are so dark that there’s no way he can tell that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of him since they walked past. 

 

“I agree,” Brad says, and he raises his voice to be heard by the group, changing his voice slightly in the hopes that they won’t recognize him, “Don’t let the Corps suck you dry.”

 

“See!” The guy says, cheering and shooting double finger guns toward Brad. “Big, gay, pink surfboard dude agrees with me! And you thought he was gonna beat us up!” He adds, shifting his pointing fingers to the man he’s trying to persuade to live a little. 

 

“Bi!” Brad corrects, and he forces himself to come clean to these strangers that aren’t strangers.

 

“Even better!” The other guy says, “Best of both worlds! Thank you big, bi, surfboard dude!”

 

“You’re welcome,” Brad says, and he feels overcome with anxiety as he watches the man with his shirt over his shoulder break off from his friends to practically skip toward him. He finally recognizes him when he’s only a few feet away, his eyes shining, and Brad realizes he’s the man that cornered him to be gay for a few moments in the bathroom on the Family Day he babysat a few months back. 

 

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” He says as he comes to a stop at Brad’s feet, blocking the sun, “You’re bathroom dude! Big up for not ratting me out, homes, you’re the bee's knees.”

 

Brad laughs, tipping his head back as he does. He looks over the frame of his sunglasses as he sits up, and he doesn’t miss the way the other guy’s gaze drags across his torso as he speaks, “Like I said, don’t let the Corps suck you dry.”

 

The man leers at him, and he supposes the phrasing of that deserves it a bit. “Bi, huh?” He says, crouching down and Brad grins as he pushes his sunglasses back up his nose as he nods. “My name is Ray, and I stand by what I said, you’re the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen,” The man,  _ Ray _ , says as he holds his hand out. 

 

“Brad,” He says as he shakes his hand with a laugh, “And you haven’t seen my ass.”

 

“ _ Brad _ , I saw your ass in dress blues, buddy, and it was a masterpiece,” Ray says as he lets go of Brad’s hand and stands up, and Brad already misses the heat against his palm as the other man stands. “Now, I’m gonna go be gay down the beach, but if you ever want to catch a piece of  _ this _ ass, you know where I live,” He continues, tipping an imaginary hat as he starts walking backward, grinning at Brad the entire time back to his friends.

 

“Bye,” Brad says, mostly for himself as he waves, feeling foolishly like he should have used the hand he was shaking to pull the other man in for a kiss, just to taste the way his grin is glowing. 

 

**Bar—Leaving Party**

 

Brad is drunk and working on his fifth beer after too many shots of whiskey. He’s too proud to say he’s hiding from anyone, but he’s certainly not sitting in the back corner booth to be  _ social,  _ or at least that’s what Poke said when he left him to it, pushing the beer he bought him across the table on his way back toward the bar. “Well, well, well, it’s bathroom man! Hello Brad, Bradley, pink surfboard man,” A voice says from the end of the table, and Ray slides into the booth across from him as Brad lifts the bottle to his mouth. 

 

“Gay bathroom man,” Brad says in greeting after he swallows, grinning around the mouth of the bottle. “I see you went for a shirt this time, good look,” He says as he sets his beer down, leaning against the back of his side of the booth as Ray laughs. 

 

“I see you did too, I’m disappointed,” Ray says, and Brad snorts out a laugh. “Oh, shit, we’re in a bar full of Marines,” Ray says, lowering his voice as he leans toward Brad across the table, “I should tone down the gay, right?”

 

“Maybe a little,” Brad admits as he leans toward Ray, reaching out to squeeze the hand that he’s got resting on the table between them because he wants to touch the other man, has every time he’s seen him, so he indulges himself a little. 

 

Brad is  _ very _ drunk. 

 

His head is swimming, and he’s still touching Ray. “Marine, do you want to get out of here?” Ray asks as Brad finally lets go of his hand, and he does, he really does. 

 

“Yeah,” He says, “These leaving parties are always fun for the first hour, but then everyone splits off and does their own thing and I’ll never understand the point of even having them.” Brad slides out of the booth and his feet are barely on the ground as Ray does the same. For some reason Brad had thought that Ray was sober, but that idea is scratched when Ray practically spins in place once his feet touch the ground. He feels better saying yes to leaving with the other man knowing that he’s just as drunk, because if anything happens there’s a built in excuse. An excuse that he uses to drift as close to Ray as he can the moment they step out of the bar and into the cover of moonlight, his elbow pressing into Ray’s bicep as they walk the line of bars and push through rowdy groups of people. 

 

“Oh, this way,” Ray says, and he grabs Brad’s wrist as he pulls him into an alley. 

 

Brad’s tingling from head to toe, because he didn’t expect to get laid tonight but he’s not going to complain he’s just….”Where are we going?”

 

“The beach!” Ray crows, and Brad laughs, enjoying the feel of Ray’s fingers tightening around his wrist as he pulls him out of the other end of the alley and onto the boardwalk lining the beach. 

 

“I didn’t realize the alley would take us to the beach,” Brad says honestly, because he didn’t, he doesn’t explore much beyond the base and the few miles of open beach surrounding it. Tonight, this leaving party for a CO that he didn’t even directly work under, was the first time in a long time that he’d gone out, and the first time in even longer than he’d let himself get drunk. He had almost been feeling maudlin about the whole thing, as he sat in the booth alone, but Ray had come in like a burst of sunshine and goddamn rainbows and he let himself be dragged to the beach. 

 

“I spend a lot time exploring the areas around Camp P,” Ray says, dropping Brad’s wrist as their feet hit the sand, “Because there’s only so long I can be on base and not lose my fucking mind, ya know?” 

 

Brad doesn’t really get that because he  _ likes _ being on base, likes being a Marine, but he’s getting the feeling that maybe Ray isn’t cut from the same cloth as him. “I don’t,” He says honestly, nudging Ray as he does, “I’m a career man, I think the base is great.”

 

“Of fuckin’  _ course _ you are,” Ray says, laughing as he bends to untie his shoes. Brad is wearing flip flops, because the one thing he doesn’t like about the military are the fucking  _ boots _ , if he could he’d live in flip flops, so he doesn’t have to do anything more than kick his sandals off and pick them up as he watches Ray struggle with his knots. “The one guy I vibe with and he’s sold his soul to the Corps,” he mumbles under his breath, and Brad is one hundred percent sure that he wasn’t supposed to hear him and so he pretends like he doesn’t, meandering forward towards the water’s edge. 

 

“I got promoted,” Brad says, and he doesn’t know why he’s telling Ray this, just that he feels like he needs to. 

 

Ray stumbles up next to him and leans his weight against Brad’s side as he responds, “Congrats, career track here you come. What to?” 

 

“Sergeant,” Brad says, and he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face, “It’s not much, but I feel like I’ll actually be able to do more as a Sergeant. I hope.”

 

“Sergeant Brad,” Ray says, and he sounds like he’s trying not to laugh as he does. Brad does laugh, tipping his head back as he does and swearing that he feels the ghost of fingers around his wrist before he looks back down at Ray. 

 

“Colbert, Sergeant Colbert,” He corrects as Ray sticks his tongue out at him.

 

“Well that’s stupid, I like Sergeant Brad better,” Ray says, and Brad has the feeling that this is going to be the new way the other man greets him. If there is another time, and Brad really hopes there is, because Ray makes him feel more human just by being around. 

 

Brad shoves Ray a little harder than he meant to, and so he keeps his hand wrapped around his bicep so that he doesn’t go flying into the ocean. “Sorry,” He apologizes, laughing slightly at the affronted look on Ray’s face as he tugs him toward him, trying to help him get more steady on his feet, “I didn’t mean to shove you that hard.” 

 

“Sure you didn’t,” Ray says, rolling his eyes even as he smiles, bringing his hands to settle on Brad’s chest and wow, Brad didn’t realize that they were standing this close, their chests almost pressing together. 

 

“I didn’t,” Brad says, his voice dropping in tone as he licks his lips, and this is such a bad idea, they’re out in the open. Brad watches Ray’s gaze drop to his lips, and he feels the other man’s fingertips dig into his chest as he mirrors his action. “ _ Ray _ ,” He says it almost desperately, trying to hide from how badly he wants to kiss the other man while also wanting to just fucking  _ do it _ . 

 

“ _ Brad _ ,” Ray says in response, and he closes his eyes for a few moments while Brad struggles to breathe, not wanting to ruin the moment. “ _ Sergeant Brad _ ,” He murmurs it like an answer to a question that Brad asked, and he supposes it  _ is _ an answer, in some sense. Ray pushes away from Brad gently his eyes solemn even as he forces a grin on his face. “Last one into the water is a POG!” Ray says as he turns quickly toward the water and wades in, and Brad watches him go because he knows that this is the best thing. 

 

He can be friends. 

 

**Afghanistan**

 

Being in Afghanistan for a second tour is almost worse than the first, because he remembers the heat but for some reason he doesn’t remember it being  _ this _ hot. He’s dying, or he wishes he were dying, and he says this out loud to Poke, who’s laying on the hood of his Humvee. “You’re not dying, Iceman,” Poke replies, and right, he forgot that he’s earned that nickname by being seen as cool and level headed, not by being…whatever he’s being right now. 

 

“I’m not whining,” Brad says, and as soon as he says it he knows he is, he doesn’t need the look that Poke throws him to confirm his suspicions. 

 

Poke sits up and looks him dead in the eye. “If you were whining any more I’d ferment you and serve you with cheese,” He says it as he slides off the hood and his boots kick up dust as they land in the sand. That’s another thing that Brad can’t stand, the dust that covers  _ everything _ , head to toe, he’d only just managed to get the dust out of his uniform from the last tour by the time he was being shipped off again. 

 

Brad watches Poke walk off toward…well, he’s not really sure where Poke is headed but it doesn’t really matter, he thinks to himself as he takes Poke’s place on the hood of his Humvee, closing his eyes against the light of the sun. “Sergeant Brad?” A voice says a few moments later, and Brad’s eyes shoot open because there’s only one person that would dare call him that. 

 

“Ray?” He says, sitting up and looking at him in confusion because he didn’t know the other man had shipped out with him. There’s no way he could have missed him on the transport so, “Did you just get here?” 

 

He reaches out, needing to touch Ray, and clasps him on the shoulder as the other man answers, “Kind of? We hit land a few days ago but I did just get to  _ this _ camp.” He laughs as he reaches up, squeezing Brad’s wrist gently before he shoves his hand off, “Everyone was telling me to avoid the Iceman because he was napping, have you gone and made a nickname for yourself while I wasn’t around?”

 

Brad laughs, rubbing his hands over his face as he hides a grin in his palms because this, this is what he was missing. “I’m cool under pressure, if you want to blame  _ anyone _ for the nickname blame Poke, he’s the king of bad nicknames,” He says as he drops his hands to his lap, shaking his head as Ray laughs at him. 

 

“Well the man’s name is Poke, of course he is,” Ray says as he leans his hip against the Humvee, grinning up at Brad as he does. 

 

“You know as well as I do that he picked  _ that _ nickname as well,” He argues, and Ray shrugs as Brad slides off the hood of the Humvee, “What made you so unlucky that you ended up here?” Brad asks, and it’s a good question, the only people that are here are the grunts that pissed someone off and Recon, and last he heard he didn’t think Ray was Recon.

 

Ray looks away from Brad as he answers, “Asked to be Recon, heard through the grapevine that it’s not a bad gig, took some tests, passed with flying colors, and now I’m a Recon RTO.” Brad is stunned, and he’s sure his face shows it, because he’s getting the feeling that Ray transferred just to be near him and that, well that can’t be right because Ray is  _ way _ too good for him. Plus, he deserves someone that can actually claim him, and show him off, because Brad is career through and through, so there’s no way for him to be visibility bi as well as a Marine, it’s just not done. 

 

“You, uh…” Brad isn’t sure what to say, but he knows he needs to say something.

 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Ray says, and he sounds like it’s the truth, enough so that Brad feels that weight of guilt leave his shoulders, “I wanted a challenge, and this is what they could come up with.”

 

“Good,” Brad says, nodding, he reaches out and clasps Ray’s shoulder again, pressing his thumb against the barest hint of collarbone that’s showing between the top three undone buttons on Ray’s blouse, “Welcome to Recon, Marine.” He’s genuine in his welcome, but for a split second he has the thought that he wishes Ray were at home, stateside and safe, and it takes everything in his body to not tug him in by the grip he has on his shoulder and kiss him. 

 

**On Watch**

 

Brad hasn’t seen Ray since that first day, but he’s made it a point to not be That Guy and seek him out. It’s as much for his own sanity as it is Ray’s, because he  _ knows _ that Ray wants him, can see it in the way he looks at him, and if he didn’t want him back twice as much it could make things awkward. He does though, he wants Ray like he wants a hot shower or a firm mattress, and so he stays away. It’s working surprisingly well, until Poke bows out of his watch duties with him because he’s got the shits and he tells Ray to take over for him. Brad takes the blame for that one, having introduced the two of them that first day when Poke came back to the Humvee to pick up his forgotten cover from the passenger side seat. They became fast friends, annoyingly so. “Sergeant Brad,” Ray greets as he drops onto the sand with him, and Brad would almost swear they were back on the beach if it weren’t for the weapons and fatigues. 

 

“Corporal Person,” Brad says in return, because he’s not the only one that ended up with a promotion before they landed in Afghanistan.

 

“You’re such a stick in the mud,” Ray says with a laugh as he sets his SAW across his lap, the muzzle pointing toward the side that Brad’s not seated on, thank God. 

 

Brad turns his head slightly so that he can catch Ray’s profile illuminated by the moon, because of fucking  _ course _ it’s a full moon the night he’s stuck doing watch with the other man. “I’m  _ professional _ ,” Brad denies even as he reaches out and, in a move that surprises even himself, squeezes the hand that Ray has resting on the butt of his weapon.

 

Brad can hear the breath that Ray sucks in as the other man turns his hand under his until their palms are pressed together, and this is heading into dangerous territory but _Brad_ _doesn’t care_ , not when he can just make out the flush appearing on Ray’s cheeks. Ray turns to face him as their fingers slot together, and Brad feels like he’s staring at the sun with how bright the grin he’s shining his way is. “Brad,” He says, and Brad’s taken aback at how _sad_ Ray sounds even as he’s smiling, “You’re a good person, a good _Marine,_ I can’t be the reason that gets fucked up. I won’t _let_ myself be.”

 

Brad wishes he didn’t know what Ray was talking about, wishes just for a moment that he could be both a good Marine  _ and _ a good man, but at this moment he feels like neither. “I like you,” Brad says, and it’s true, he likes this man with his boundless energy and sunshine smiles, that’s holding his hand in the middle of their watch duty because, like him, he knows this will probably be the last bit of intimacy they share. 

 

“I am pretty great,” Ray says loudly, and then he lowers his voice as he turns serious, “I like you too, so much. But I can’t be...I just  _ can’t _ .”

 

“I know,” Brad sighs and he squeezes Ray’s hand with his gently as he adds, “I really want to kiss you.”

 

He watches Ray close his eyes, and can see the way his chest moves with his breath as he bows his head. Ray lifts Brad’s hand up to his face, pressing the back of it to the hot skin of his cheek as he says, “I know, but  _ no _ .”

 

Brad understands, he does, that this is all for his benefit,  _ he’s _ the one that’s career,  _ he’s  _ the one that’s not out to anyone other than his parents and  _ he’s  _ the one that seems to want to be reckless about the whole thing. Ray is too smart for him, too smart for  _ anyone _ , he thinks as he feels the scratch of Ray’s stubble against the back of his hand. He wiggles his hand free of Ray’s, and he can taste the disappointment in the air for the moment it takes him to press his hand back against Ray’s face, this time cupping his cheek and tilting his head to face him. “You’re too good,” Brad says to the other man, and it drags a laugh from him, one that sounds torn from his chest. 

 

“I know,” Ray says, and he sounds apologetic as he turns his head slightly, brushing his lips against the inside of Brad’s wrist before he grabs it with his own hand and gently moves his hand into his own space. 

 

Brad’s wrist is tingling as he drops his hand into his lap, his whole body feeling like it’s been lit up from the inside out. “This is gonna be a long watch,” He says, and he finally drags his gaze away from Ray and out into the endless desert, watching the way the moon plays on the sand and feeling the ghost of Ray’s lips on his wrist which is too much and not enough all at once. 

 

“You’re telling me,” Ray says, and he nudges Brad with his elbow as the two of them tumble into a comfortable silence. 

 

**+1 -- Brad’s Housewarming Party**

 

The first thing Brad does when he gets back from Afghanistan is find a place off of Camp Pendleton to live, a condo that’s close enough that he won’t have to fight horrible traffic on duty days, but far enough away that he’ll feel like he has a life outside of the Marines. And if the thought that he could have Ray over crosses his mind, the two of them on the couch as close as they can get without being on top of each other as they watch shitty TV, then no one but him needs to know. He wasn’t even going to make it a big deal, was just going to quietly move in without any fanfare and tuck himself into a life of living on his own for the first time in his adult life, but when Poke found out that he was getting his own place he insisted oh a housewarming party. Brad’s pretty sure Poke was just looking for an excuse to get drunk, but he appreciates the fact that the man at least  _ pretends _ that’s not the only reason. 

 

That’s how he got here, with a platoon’s worth of Marines in his two bedroom condo, all of them sprawled in various locations around his sparsely decorated home while Poke mixes drinks in the kitchen. Brad’s not drinking, mostly because he doesn’t trust these Whiskey-Tango fucks to not set his condo on fire, but also because he doesn’t trust Poke to not give him alcohol poisoning. The man is a genius, but not the best at keeping a light hand with the alcohol, which Brad learned the hard way after the first drink Poke made him sent him from sober to tipsy in a matter of moments. That was before the others arrived, and he’s sobered up since then, but watching these other men drink the beverages that Poke makes for them makes his stomach roll in sympathy. 

 

“I see you too are drinking water, smart man,” Ray says loudly as he catches Brad’s attention, raising his own water bottle up in a cheers across the room. 

 

“I’m not trying to die,” Brad says in response, grinning at the other man as he takes a swig from his water. That’s the other reason he’s not drinking, Ray was invited because  _ of course _ he was, and Brad doesn’t trust himself to not turn into a fool if he has too many drinks. And turning into the kind of fool that being around Ray makes him in a room full of Marines is not a good plan, especially with this bunch. 

 

It’s a loud party, and Brad is thankful that he preemptively apologized to his neighbors beneath him the day before, the husband was understanding, a former Marine himself, and only asked that they not kill anyone or set anything on fire. Brad had laughed and agreed, but with the rate that Poke is churning out drinks he’s almost afraid that there will be a few dead bodies by the end of the night. “Dawg, this is the best place,” Poke says as he drapes himself over Brad’s back, his half full drink slopping down the side of the cup and onto Brad’s shirt, “Flowing alcohol and no MPs showing up to ruin the mood! Three cheers for Brad!” The last part is said loudly, so loudly that Brad flinches away from the sound as the Marines around him let out loud, drunken cheers. He catches Ray’s eye, and the other man grins as he turns back to the Private he was talking with before the cheer went up. 

 

Brad decides then, that he’s going to do his best to keep Ray around until the rest of the guys leave, because he’s done everything he can to try and get the other man out of his mind but nothing has worked. The entire flight home, from airstrip to airport, he’d thought about Ray, and about he and Ray, and how Brad  _ deserves _ to be happy, and Ray makes him happy so...He’s gonna do it. He, embarrassingly enough, called his mom as soon as he landed and spilled his guts to her, telling him about the man that he’d accidentally fallen for and really, his mom is the best person in the world, because she said, “Bradley, I love you with all of my heart, but if you don’t do the best thing for  _ you _ , for your _ heart,  _ then have I even raised you right? Do what you want, and what you need, and for once in your life don’t let the opinions of others change your decisions.”

 

It's nearing two in the morning as he’s pouring Poke into a cab, making sure he’s paired with another Marine that’s not nearly as wasted as he is that can help him into the barracks without him dying on the way there. Poke was the last one to leave, and he’s only leaving because Brad is kicking him out, though he’s pretty sure the other man doesn’t realize it. “Goodbye Bradley, Iceman of my heart!” Poke yells out of the rolled down window, and Brad waves and laughs as he turns on his heel, heading back up the stairs to his place and praying that Ray is still where he left him, picking up the trash strewn around his living room. 

 

He closes the door behind himself quietly while he catches an eyeful of Ray’s ass, the other man bending over to pick up a few plastic cups that someone had set on the ground by the couch. “You don't have to stay,” Brad says, and he doesn’t mean it, not really, but he wants to give Ray an out. 

 

“I want to,” Ray says as he straightens up, tossing the cups into the trash bag he has held in his hand while he smiles at Brad. 

 

Brad smiles back, because how can he not, and he starts to gather up dishes to let soak in the sink. They work together, Ray picking up the living room and Brad washing dishes, as the radio plays in the background, much more quietly than it had been during the party. He’s humming along to the song that’s playing as he rinses off the last of the plates, drying his hands as Ray starts to sing in earnest. Brad turns and leans against the counter, watching Ray dance his way across the living room as he picks up the last of the trash and sings, and he’s in too deep. Ray catches his eye as he ties off the trash bag and asks, “What, Iceman? Never seen someone dance before?”

 

Brad closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, and Ray is quick to back up slightly, keeping an arm’s worth of distance between them. This is how they’ve been surviving, keeping each other at an arm’s length and dimming their smiles, and in the field it was what Brad needed to do but here? In his own home? He reaches out and grabs the tied off trash bag from Ray, setting it on the ground behind himself without taking his eyes from the other man’s as he backs him up against the wall that’s next to his closed bedroom door. “We’re not in Afghanistan,” Brad says, and he can’t help the way his voice pitches down as he does. 

 

He can see Ray swallow before he responds, “I’m aware, I believe we’re actually in your condo.” Ray laughs slightly as his eyes dart to the side, and Brad feels bad for cornering him, but not enough to back up and out of his space. 

 

“We’re alone,” Brad says, and he finally reaches out to touch Ray, his hand cupping his cheek as Ray’s eyes flutter closed. 

 

“We can’t do this,” Ray says, and he sounds shattered as he brings one hand up to curl around Brad’s wrist, the other resting over Brad’s heart, his fingers curling into the shirt as he speaks continues, “You don't want to ruin your career and I can’t...I can’t do that to you.”

 

“I told my mom about you,” Brad says, and he didn’t mean to tell Ray about that, but it seems like it’s the right thing to do when Ray chokes out a sound that Brad thinks is a laugh until he realizes that Ray’s got a tear clinging to the corner of his eye. He thumbs the tear away and says, “I want you, I know it’ll be weird and we’ll have to hide which _isn’t_ _fair_ to you, but I want to be selfish this one time, and I want to be selfish with you.”

 

“Shut up and kiss me,” Ray says and this time it is with a laugh, and Brad ducks down, tilting Ray’s head back with the hand he has on his cheek and finally,  _ finally _ , pressing their mouths together in a kiss that Brad can feel in his goddamn  _ toes _ . 

 

All the waiting was worth it, Brad thinks as he feels Ray’s arms wind around his neck. 


End file.
